Why Yes, I am an Evil Lair. (Worm/Dungeon Core) (No Longer A Quest)

[Automatonation]

"Good Morning, Brockton Bay!"

"And all our other subscribers across the internet!"

"I'm Uber,"

"And this is Leet"

"And this is another episode of the Uber & Leet Show!"

"I'm telling you, Uber, this is one for the history books. We've been producing this show for years, and never before have we had an opportunity to interact with a parahuman who matched with our expertise so well."

"That's the honest truth, Leet. And the actual result? Well, I was blown away by what we found."

"Literally, Uber. You were literally blown away."

"Spoilers, dude! We want people to watch this one!"

"Anyway! Needless to say, we were very excited to have the opportunity to participate in what was actually a genuine D-D-D-DUNGEON RAID, located in a supervillian's lair deep below Brockton Bay."

"As true nerds, how could we resist? Admittedly, we had a wide range of choices for themes on this one. The cape who had taken over the supervillian's cell blocks had shown that he could make zombie-themed minions, as well as automatic gun turrets, so we thought about some of the classic zombie thrillers, or even something like GoldenEye, but in the end, when faced with a Dungeon, you have to go to the granddaddy of all modern RPGs."

"That's right. For this very special episode, we are going with the classic, the one and only, it's right there in the title,"

"DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS!"

"So whether you're a fan of First Edition or whether your soul is so black and stained you prefer Fourth – looking at you, Uber – sit back, pop some popcorn and enjoy the show."





EARLIER

In a secret base hidden deep below the earth, a pair of intrepid nerds stroll casually down a long corridor, leading towards their destination, their date with destiny, the culmination of years of effort, blood, sweat, and tears. Leet grinned behind his false beard, eyes twinkling, fingers twitching as he forcibly suppressed to urge to bolt ahead of the group. His wizard's robes – +2 Robes of Deflection as he had described them to Uber when designing them – swished grandly around his feet, the copper shod foot of his Staff of Thunderbolts clicking on the concrete floor. Uber glanced at him, and though his friend's face was almost completely hidden by the steel helm he wore, Leet knew that Uber was just as thrilled. Ahead, a trio of villains clad in complementary red and black costumes lead the way deeper into Coil's base, flanked by a team of eight heavily armed mercenaries. They had been introduced as Trickster, Ballistic, and Sundancer of the Travelers, a nomadic band of villains that roamed the nation, working for the highest bidder. As he considered the situation, Leet's brow furrowed slightly. Something was a little off here. True, Coil had presented it as a rescue mission, extracting his 'employee' Tattletale from the clutches of an unnamed Shaker/Master that had subsumed part of his base, but… The tinker clicked his tongue twice, and the quantum-entangled comm-patch, just behind his jaw at the base of his left ear, activated, connecting to the identical one worn by Uber. "Coil seem fishy to you too, bro?" He subvocalized, knowing that the tech would pick up the vibrations from his jawbone.

"Coil's always fishy." Uber deadpanned. He was wearing professional grade steel-scale and leather armor, but his hand-and-a-half bastard sword and kite shield were some of Leet's earlier work. Fortunately, he had designed them to be modular so he was able to easily modify the external design for the current mission. "But yes. A previously unknown cape turns up in the deepest part of his base and takes over his prison block, with no information on how they show up? Movers are a thing, but I get the feeling Coil wasn't giving us all the information."

"Like how he's doing everything he can to be Skeletor, but without a skull mountain? Blofeld without a white cat?" Leet snorted. "I mean, style is one thing, but he's just… skeevy."

"Grand Theft Auto."

"Fuck you, that doesn't count."

"It fucked our reps up, L." Uber replied coolly. "Any chance we had of being anything other than minor villains was ruined."

"Because nobody read the disclaimer!" Leet hissed. "And we healed them up after the show!" One of the mercenaries, a petite blond woman with a pair of massive pistols, turned her head and gave him a glare. Leet winced, and the pair walked in silence until she looked away.

"Who reads disclaimers? Most people just saw the clips, and assumed the worst." Uber sighed. "But yeah, we need to keep an eye open. The cape can probably be reasoned with, but he's already proved willing to kill with very little notice."

"10-4." Leet clicked his tongue again, ending the connection. They were getting close to the end of the corridor. Following the directions from Coil's email, the pair of nerds had initially arrived at an abandoned parking garage earlier that morning, where a pair of mercenaries had escorted them to a freight elevator which brought them deep underground, where they met the other capes and mercenaries in an improvised conference room. Coil had given a video briefing, and then they all proceeded to walk. And walk. And walk. Leet wasn't in bad shape – part of being a good Tinker, at least with how volatile his creations were at times, was being able to sprint long distances at a moment's notice while dodging shrapnel – but he was getting tired of walking.

The group turned a corner, went down a set of short stairs into an open room with a pair of guard stations, and finally into a massive rectangular shaft, driven down deep into the bedrock underneath Brockton Bay. Lining the poured concrete walls and crisscrossing the interior of the hollow shaft were a vast network of steel walkways and staircases leading up and down within the room. Solid steel doors dotted the walls in places – mercenary barracks, armories, medical facilities, everything a villain could want in his evil lair. Uber whistled, leaning on a guardrail, looking down at a massive vault door set into the wall at the very bottom of the shaft. "Fallout?" Leet asked, nudging him in the ribs.

"Absolutely," Uber stated. "The door isn't a giant gear, but we've dealt with worse."

"I wouldn't suggest it." Rumbled a deep voice, and the pair jumped. The speaker was a massive beast, built like a gorilla but standing at nearly eight feet tall at the shoulder, even with its broad knuckles planted firmly on the ground. Rather than fur, the creature was covered in thick leathery plates that reminded Leet of scale-mail armor, with gray elephantine hide peeking out in places where the plates didn't cover. The head was bat-like, with huge, complex ears and a broad nose with flared nostrils, but sported a quartet of beady black eyes, two larger and facing forward, the other two smaller, and situated sideways on the high dome of the creature's head. It smiled, revealing a mouthful of interlocking tusks, and offered a massive three-fingered hand to Leet. "You may not like what you find. Genesis."

Leet gingerly shook the proffered hand, which engulfed his entire arm up to the elbow. "Leet. Just speculating, brainstorming a bit. You gotta stay on top of things, chase ideas where they lead you, when you're in a creative career."

Genesis bobbed its head. Leet belatedly noticed that it was wearing a red and black vest that strained to contain the bulging muscles in its torso. Otherwise, it was unclothed, genderless. "I watch the channel."

"Always good to meet a fan." Leet grinned weakly as Genesis smiled enigmatically, before knuckling away to join the other Travelers. Turning to Uber, who was watching, elbows on the rail and a grin peeking through the vents on his helmet, he quipped. "They have a cave troll."

Uber's brow furrowed. "That's probably what they're going for, actually." He muttered. "Size, strength, enhanced secondary senses for dark places. Coil mentioned that the cape liked ambushing people in the dark."

"Jeez, put the jokes in camps, man." Leet groaned.

"Just working things out. Did you see where we are heading yet?" Uber asked.

"No." Leet glanced around, before his eyes landed on an improvised firing position with sandbags and a quartet of armed mercenaries, a level up, positioned opposite the massive vault door. With a sinking feeling, he saw that the mercenaries were watching a pair of broad sliding doors, positioned about thirty feet apart. "Now I have."

"They're spooked." Uber murmured. "Seven skilled mercenaries killed and converted into zombies, with the only survivor badly traumatized and a Thinker captured. Gets you wondering if money is worth it."

"Dude."

"Sorry. Thinking."

"We're not in this for the money." Leet analyzed the sentence. "Well, no, we are in it for the money, but we're also in it because it's a chance to do an actual flippin' dungeon dive. We are nerd pioneers, dude! Uber Armstrong and Leet Alvin, going boldly where no nerd has gone before! One small step for a nerd, one giant leap for geek-kind!" Leet grinned broadly, giving his childhood friend a thumbs up.

Uber stared at Leet for a long moment. "Aldrin."

"Huh?"

"It was Buzz Aldrin. Get it right." Uber snorted. "And I noticed that you made me the first one in."

"Well, you are the meatsh- I mean tank." Leet joked. Uber groaned in frustration. "Dude, I'm the wizard, you're the fighter, you draw aggro so I can DPS."

"Don't ever speak again." Despite his words, Uber grinned and gave his friend a playful shove. "Think the others are waiting."

"WE ARE." came a shout from the burlier of the two male Travelers. Ballistic? He wore black combat armor, highlighted with red arrows and vectors and a half mask covering his eyes and nose. One hand was tucked into his belt, which was covered in pouches and holsters. The Travelers were waiting at the base of the stairs leading up to the cell block doors. The girl, Sundancer, was standing with her arms crossed, which enhanced certain features quite nicely in her skintight black costume, emblazoned with the image of a red sun. The apparent leader, Trickster, leaned on his cane, an easy grin gracing his dark-skinned face. The top hat perched jauntily on his head cast his grinning red mask in shadow, matching nicely with the sharp red and black suit he wore.

"Dude, chill, we're coming!" Leet called, and they approached. "Can't we just take a moment to admire the view?"

"Well, the view has been admired, but I don't think any number of flowers will make it happier to see you." needled Trickster.

Leet snorted. "You. I like you." The group of capes trooped up the stairs to where the mercenary team stood waiting by the prison. Something about the area was… different. Leet took a deep breath. "Does it smell different over here?"

Genesis sniffed at the air, its nose and brow wrinkling in thought. "Fresher, somehow."

"Yeah. Not quite as 'underground military complex' somehow." Leet agreed. "Wish I had brought my tricorder, but it wouldn't be on theme." Uber fished out a classic Star Trek tricorder from a pouch on his belt and dangled it in front of the Tinker. "Dude! I thought we weren't bringing it!"

"Chill, we haven't started recording. Just get some readings, and then I'll put it up." Uber tossed the device to his friend, who caught it, fumbling.

A few minutes of scanning yielded no results, no difference in the air quality, and no changes in background radiation, only a few minuscule fluctuations in space-time, nearly unmeasurable and absolutely non-threatening, that seemed to originate from within the contested cell blocks. "Hell if I know what's causing this." the tinker finally grumbled, stowing the tricorder in his bag of holding, before retrieving the Snitch, their trusty recording drone. "We ready to go in?"

"Finally," Ballistic grunted, to a snort from one of the mercenaries. Leet flicked a switch on the Snitch, and tossed it into the air, where it hung, shimmering, before it faded out of sight. The assembled group of capes and mercs turned to the door leading to Cell Block A, Uber and Genesis leading the way, but before they had gone more than a few paces, Genesis held up one massive hand.

"Something's not right."

Leet peered at the door. There was a glint of blue in the middle of the gray-painted steel. No. A spot was glowing with blue light. "It's… glowing." Without thinking, he pulled the tricorder with one hand, flipping it on. "No radiation. No chemical emissions. No heat." The spot pulsed, and another one appeared on the door to Cell Block B. Blue light flared, and the spots rapidly grew, encompassing the doors and the wall between them in less than a second, the entire team scrambling backward. The glow pulsed, flaring brightly, and Leet looked away to avoid damaging his vision. When he looked back, the doors had changed. Where once was a bare concrete wall, set with two steel sliding doors, was now a broad entryway with an overhanging marquee, opulent brass and carved ornamentation faded and tarnished by time and lack of care, setting resting over a pair of solid wood double doors. Between the doors was what appeared to be a ticket station, but with all the glass covered with dilapidated plywood. If he hadn't literally seen it appear seconds ago, Leet would have sworn that it had been a theater, abandoned for decades. Wave the Tricorder. Stare.

"Dude," Uber asked. "What did you get?"

"Nothing. It's completely ordinary." Leet stated, shaken.

"Ordinary? We literally just watched it appear in a flash of blue light!" Trickster snapped. "I thought you were supposed to be a Tinker!"

"Well excuse me if I can't analyze a form of energy nobody on earth has ever documented before!" Leet retorted.

"Trickster," Sundancer stated softly, putting her hand on his arm. "He's trying. Remember, this is..."

"Yes, I know." he sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand over his scalp. "It's for her."

Leet watched the pair for a second or two, before shaking his head and looking back at the tricorder. "It does look like some of the minor space-time fluctuations are increasing, but that's localized all the way in the back of the cell blocks. I estimate 200 feet or more from the entrance."

"Kid, your numbers are off." one of the mercenaries, a dark-skinned man in his late thirties, growled. "The cell blocks only go back about forty feet."

"Then he fucking dug a tunnel or something! We literally just watched some Harry Potter fucking transfiguration, and you're bitching about my numbers!" Leet snapped back.

"Chill." Uber murmured over the throat comm. "Anger isn't helping."

Leet took a couple of deep breaths and centered himself. He itched to try and take the apparent antiques apart, to see if he could find anything at all to show what caused the unexplained transformation. "Sorry. There's no point arguing." he finally stated. "We can't find the answer out here. We have to go in."

Trickster stared at the Tinker for a long moment. "Fine." He glanced around at the assembled group. "Suggestions?"

Uber chimed in. "Genesis in the front, with me, Leet, and Ballistic close behind. Trickster and Sundancer in the back." He looked over at the mercenaries. "No offense, guys, but I think you'll need to stay back and guard the entrance from inside." Uber glanced at Leet, who nodded. "Something tells me that the interior is going to be changed from what we expect from the floor plan Coil gave us."

Ballistic snorted. "Ya think?" He pointed up at the marquee, where tarnished brass letters hung precariously. "Theatre of the Damned." The armored Traveler chuckled. "Fucker's got a sense of drama. Gonna be all 'theatrical' about it."

Leet felt himself grinning. "Well, what are we waiting for?" he asked. He was getting excited. Parahuman effects that he had never seen before! A fucking dungeon! And with a theme, too!

Genesis knuckled over to the door, inspecting the heavy stained wood and brass fittings. "I'll fit. Barely." It said, placing one broad hand on one of the solid oak doors, before slowly pushing it open. The door creaked, loudly and clearly, the tone echoing through the empty cavern.

"There's no way that wasn't deliberate," Ballistic stated, unimpressed, and Sundancer giggled.

Genesis pushed open the other door, with an identical creak, and stepped inside. "Nothing moving." It was pitch black inside the room, but it felt cavernous, the massive room echoing oddly. "Come on."

The squad moved in, and Leet grabbed an Orb of Light – a repurposed antigrav drone the size of a golf ball that produced a dome of soft ambient light without being blinding - and tossed it into the room. "Wow." They were standing on a balcony, only about ten feet long and about forty feet wide, extending to just past the other door. In front of them stretched a cavernous entryway, with arched ceilings thirty or forty feet tall, supported by pairs of marble pillars, extending forward for over one hundred feet. Between the rows of pillars a pair of mammoth crystal chandeliers, easily twenty feet across, hung from thick chains in the middle of the grand hallway. A broad stairway stretched down in front of them, ending on the gray marble floor twenty feet below them, where a moth-eaten red carpet laid, drawing a blood-colored path into the distant shadows between the pillars. The air was stale and cold, a scent of mold and decay in the air. Drifts of plaster, fallen from ruined ceilings, laid in random piles on the floor, and the brass fittings and fixtures were all tarnished ruins.

Leet glanced to either side. A long balcony with ornamental rails lined both sides of the broad hallway, about ten feet higher than where they were currently positioned, with multiple doors set into the wall on either side. His gut sank. Ambush positions. His eyes drifted to the chandeliers, hanging conveniently over the red carpet, and he gulped. This Dungeon Master was going to be a pain. His mind drifted back to a handful of tabletop sessions in high school. "Do not walk under the chandeliers, guys."

All eyes locked on the hanging masses of ancient wax, dusty crystal, and aging wire. "Got it." Ballistic grunted, but even his taciturn voice sounded strained.

After a bit of discussion, the mercenaries wound up fortifying the balcony just by the entrance, keeping an eye on the higher balconies. There did not seem to be any doors along the walls at floor level, and the light was only just strong enough to show hints of a third long balcony along the end of the hallway, under which a cut-out in the wall led deeper inside. Leet shifted his robes, tightened his fingers around his staff, and slipped a Wand of Dragon's Breath into his sleeve. "We ready?" He asked.

"Let's go," grunted Genesis, and the Brute led the party down the stairs, Uber, Leet, and Ballistic close behind. Uber drew his sword and shifted his kite shield onto his left arm, rolling his shoulders to loosen up, while Ballistic tucked a hand briefly into a pouch before pulling it out again, clenched at his side. They carefully made their way down the stairs, their footsteps echoing oddly in the large room. The closer they got to the floor, the softer their footsteps sounded, muffled and deadened. The air was still. Not dangerous, but stuffy.

Leet swiped a finger along the marble banister and came back with a pile of plaster dust clinging to the tip. "The immersion is incredible." Rather than echoing, the room seemed to suck the volume out of his voice. "I know intellectually that this was a cell block less than a day ago, but I could swear it's been an abandoned theater for decades." He shivered. "Getting colder, too."

"Need some flannels under that sleeping gown?" Trickster drawled acerbically. His cane twirled idly between his fingers, but Leet could see his dark eyes darting around the room, looking for movement.

"Ha fucking ha." Some part of Leet wanted to rant and rave, but he suppressed it, reminding himself that he was on camera, the Snitch floating invisibly overhead, algorithms processing and automatically acquired the best camera angles. "Just saying, there is more going on here than just changing the shape of the room."

"Spatial distortion?" Genesis rumbled curiously. The troll-like Changer was having a little difficulty knuckling down the stairs but seemed oddly reluctant to leap the few remaining feet to the floor.

"No Space Expansion Charm here, so far as I can tell." Leet murmured, remembering to stay in character for a moment. "The tricorder would have shown that. It can detect Vista's power without any issues." Less than five feet to the bottom, now. There seemed to be a thin mist, a hint of fog covering the floor of the grand hallway, difficult to notice from above. "Stop!" Leet barked, and the party stopped in mixed obedience and confusion. His fingers tightened around his staff, a thumb working over the microswitches embedded into an ornamental knot on the faux wood. The Orb of Light zipped over to the top of his staff and nestled in a small knot of branches. Thrusting the staff forward, he switched it over to beam mode, and a flare of brilliant white light erupted in a cone from the top of his staff. He slowly panned the beam of light over the base of the stairs, then further along, focusing on the bases of the pillars and the marble floor. "Uber, you see anything?"

Uber stepped around Genesis and gingerly made his way to the base of the stairs. "No tripwires, and the fog would show lasers unless they are in the infrared range."

Genesis shook its head. "I see in the infrared. Nothing."

"Can we get a move on?" Ballistic groaned. "Are we getting paid for these morons to LARP?"

Leet was about to retort when Sundancer, of all people, rounded on her teammate. "Would you stop? They got brought in as consultants because the boss believes that they will understand how this cape thinks." She leveled a glare at the burly Striker. "And you're one to talk about LARPing. March second, 2007." A smile twitched a corner of her mouth, under her domino mask. "She was a dark elf."

Ballistic subsided with a grumble, and Leet didn't bother hiding his snicker as he turned to Uber. "Are we safe?"

Uber hesitated for a moment, looking over the room again, before shaking his head. "We're in the territory of a Shaker/Master with a penchant for the undead and a taste for the dramatic, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he thinks like our DM from high school." Uber and Leet shared a synchronized shudder. "So many goblins. So no, we aren't really safe, until we actually resolve things with this guy." He pauses. "For better or worse. But I think we can get off the stairs."

Genesis nodded again, and gingerly knuckled its way down to level ground, broad toes and fingers flexing against the bedraggled carpet. Leet released the Orb of Light to hover overhead, and walked down beside it. "What do you think?" he asked softly.

The bestial Changer looked around slowly, ears swiveling and nostrils flaring. "We're the only things alive in here, but the still air is making it harder to tell. It's all a little too…" It wobbled a hand in midair. "uniform and dead." Another deep breath. "Hints of oil and rot." Genesis' eyes widened suddenly, and its head rotated to face the far end of the hall, where the end of the red carpet led off into darkness. Just as Trickster, the last of the six to descend the steps set foot on the red carpet, there was a surge of sound, so low it was nearly impossible to hear. The wall of sound hit with almost visible force, the mist on the floor rippling and churning in coils and tendrils after it passed. Candles flared into yellow light on the vast chandeliers overhead in a great wave, illuminating the grand room in dusty sepia tones, filtered through the aging, dirty crystal.

"He knows we're here." Sundancer whispered.

And the echos began. "Here here here here herehereherherherherheheheheee."

"We come in peace!" Uber stated, his voice in the steady, announcer-like tone that indicated he was enhancing his oratory skill with his power.

"Peace peace peacepeacepiecepiecepiecespiecespiecsessses" The echos whispered, a malevolent mutter that faded into silence. Leet shuddered.

"We mean you no harm." Uber continued, head turning slowly, looking for the source of the noise.

"HARM HARM HARM HARM harm harm harm harmharmharmharmharm."

"Someone is coming." Genesis stated. Leet heard it then, slow, scraping footsteps approaching down the red carpet. He looked, and grinned in terrified anticipation.

The approaching figure was a tall, slender figure, slightly feminine, but only from the bone structure and slender waist. Grey, desiccated flesh stretched tightly over lean bones peaked out from under a dusty black dress shirt and slacks, while bare feet bearing long jagged nails dug into the carpet. A tight red vest clung tightly to the emaciated ribcage. Withered skin clung in wrinkled relief to a bare skull, broken yellow teeth poked out of a lipless mouth, but worst of all were the glowing ice-blue lights that glittered coldly from behind milky white cataracts. Leet gritted his teeth and lowered the head of his staff, fingers on the hidden controls that would send a blast of lightning at the approaching undead. Something about the thing was tickling at his memory. Images from the previews of a game from Aleph that hadn't been released yet… His eyes widened. "Draugr."

Uber heard his panicked whisper. "Oh shit." He drew his sword and shield. Out of the corner of his eye, Leet noticed Ballistic, Sundancer, and Trickster spreading out in a semicircle, creating clear lanes of fire at the creature.

The Draugr approached surprisingly quickly, coming to a stop twenty feet away from the tense party of villains. It slowly looked at each one of them, before the ice-blue lights rested on Leet. A single withered arm raised slowly, a single index finger pointed directly at his chest. Leet clenched his staff tightly, his other hand ready to flick the Wand of Dragonbreath to attack position. "You." The desiccated corpse groaned, its voice a husky contralto, as cold as the grave. Leet waited. The Draugr stared. Leet met its – her – eyes, before flinching away from the cold blue light. "Tickets, please."

"What."

"Tickets. Please." The Draugr repeated, without inflection.

"I… ah…" Leet stammered. "Don't have any?"

The Draugr nodded in slow satisfaction, lowering its arm. "No Entry."

"We… Can't come in?" Leet asked. Why was no one else saying anything?

"No Tickets. No Entry." Withered arms crossed in a stern expression. Blue magic eyes glared at him. Leet was oddly reminded of his grandmother, then apologized mentally.

"We would like to come in." Uber added hopefully. "Can we get tickets?"

The Draugr's head snapped over to Uber, who jerked back. "No. Tickets." It explained. "No. Entry."

"Okay." Leet muttered. What to do? Kill the undead, aggro the unknown dungeon full of unknown enemies. Continue trying to negotiate with the increasingly testy undead, likely aggro the unknown dungeon full of unknown enemies. Try to bluff the undead, once again, aggro the unknown dungeon full of unknown fucking enemies.

Leet was drawn out of his increasingly frantic ruminations by the sudden explosion of the Draugr's ribcage. As the limbs toppled to the floor and skull spiraled into the air, the icy blue eyes flashed and blazed into red light, and the mouth fell open in a high-pitched siren-like scream that echoed through the hall long after the head fell to the floor with a thud.

Trickster rounded on Ballistic. "What. The FUCK. was that?" Genesis and Sundancer's heads snapped too and fro, just as startled by the sudden change and unnerving wail.

"Baseball." Ballistic grinned. "He was taking too long."

"You dumb motherfu-" A slow, booming drumbeat sounded out from deep inside the complex, followed by a long, low blare of trumpets, and Trickster's impending tirade stopped in its tracks.

"Ballistic?" Leet asked, pulling out his Wand. The party grouped together, huddling behind Genesis's bulk.

"Yeah?" The doors on the upper balconies slammed open, and skeletons wearing dusty black suits and sunglasses, carrying violin cases poured out onto the balcony, lining up at the edge. Behind them, at the top of the stairs, Leet could hear the mercenaries cocking their weapons.

"I fucking hate you." Leet said fervently.

Dozens of violin cases hit the floor. Dozens of Thompson submachine guns leveled at the squad of six villains. A voice rang out from the upper balcony. "Rattle 'em, boys!"

Skeletal mob enforcers opened fire, and all hell broke loose.



AN: Seemed like a good spot to end it.

Edit:fixed some word choices.

 

[Automatonation]

4,000 words into the next chapter, plenty of action, as well as some discussions.

As part of that, I drew a thing.

This should explain why I don't draw much.

Spoiler

It's a commemerative coin for the 1994 Behemoth attack on New York.

So yeah. Discuss the terrible?

Edit: Earth Bet has $1 coins in distribution, but I also decided that it's not uncommon to see $5 coins, usually called 'Vikares' after the line of $5 memorial coins released in memory of the First Hero's death. The $25 New York was released in 95, after the 94 Behemoth attack, and was the largest denomination coin ever released in the US, as well as the last coin intended for public distribution that contained any gold.

 

[Automatonation]

"Ballistic, you dick, if we don't die, I'm going to kill you!" Leet bellowed over the sound of the gunfire filling the hallway. The party of six was huddled at the base of one of the pillars, Genesis's broad, armored back on one side, its teeth gritted in pain as the fat lead slugs bounced off its armored plates. The only things that saved the group from an early TPK were its quick actions in getting them to cover, as well as the mercenaries at the top of the stairs drawing the fire from the bony thugs closest to them. The other side of the huddle was filled by Uber, bracing himself against his kite shield, which was projecting a pane of greenish-white energy, large enough to shield the party. Every bullet that touched the shield of light dropped to the floor, its kinetic energy drained. Leet eyeballed the color of the light. Another volley of gunfire, and the light grew brighter. Shit. Not much longer. "Uber's kinetic shield won't last, we need to do something!"

Trickster took off his top hat, wincing at the hole through the front and back of the fabric, before stretching out on tiptoe, glancing at the mercenaries – lying in bloody heaps at the top of the stairs and utterly ignored by the skeletons – and then up to the balcony where the mobs were still pouring fire down at them. "I have a plan!" He yelled. "'Dancer, you're up on the left, Sun Rush. Ballistic, you bastard, you're on the right, Choo Choo!" Sundancer nodded, and Ballistic pulled two handfuls of thick railroad spikes out of a thigh pouch with a manic grin.

Some shuffling within the huddle moved Trickster to where he could see everything he needed, and then with a faint pop of displacing air, Sundancer and Ballistic were gone, replaced by two slumped mercenary corpses. Sundancer screamed in terrified rage, and Leet's eyes widened as he saw a sun the size of a medicine ball appear in front of her, a surge of heat blasting away the thin fog still roiling in places on the floor, before the ball of plasma rocketed off towards the balcony, where it barreled through the line of skeletons at waist height. Ammo drums exploded, and blackened bones fell to the floor with a clatter. Some of the skeletons tried to flee, but the sun was relentless and hot enough that even a glancing blow was instantly debilitating, bones cracking from the heat.

The skeletons on the other two balconies boggled and opened fire, but in an instant, Trickster was beside Ballistic, another mercenary's corpse in his previous place in the huddle, and the burly Striker was up on the balcony on the right, leaving a confused skeleton next to the pair of Travelers at the top of the stairs. Before it had a chance to react, however, Trickster knocked its head off with his cane, and the skeleton dropped in a pile of loose bones. Ballistic threw a handful of supersonic railroad spikes, the heavy nails ripping through several skeletons each, shattering bone, but far more devastating was the Thompson he scooped up and hurled. In a fit of irony, the heavy gun instantly accelerated to bullet-like speeds, wiping out nearly all of the remaining skeletons on his balcony. Ballistic lunged for another, but one of the last bone mobsters managed to open fire. Ballistic gave a short bark of pain, and collapsed to the floor of the balcony, clutching at his upper leg.

"SHIT!" Trickster yelled, before, with a pair of pops, Ballistic was swapped with another corpse on the top of the stairs, and then back into the huddle. Blood was flowing out of a ragged slash through his right thigh.

Leet scrambled in his bag of holding, before finding a plastic bottle full of thick, red liquid. "Ballistic, drink half now!" Thrusting it into the wounded striker's hands, he grabbed a roll of bandages and started binding the wound as quickly as he could. Ballistic choked down the thick fluid, gagging at the taste of slightly spoiled meat, but within seconds, the gash on his leg started hissing and steaming, rapidly regenerating muscle and skin. "It will scar like a bitch, but you should be able to walk in about 30 minutes," Leet informed him. "And you'll want to have it checked for tumors in about six weeks, but you'll live."
Ballistic grunted in thanks, clutching his gut. Leet gripped his staff, and looked over at the end of the balcony on the right, before aiming carefully. "THUNDER!" he bellowed, for effect, and triggered the staff. A wrist-thick bolt of lightning lanced out and arced to the Tommy gun held by the last skeleton standing, which exploded as all the gunpowder ignited simultaneously, taking the skeleton's ribcage out with it. "Da nana nah nana NAH nuh" he muttered under his breath. The sung phrase was a mnemonic for the charging time on the capacitors in the staff, and also pretty badass, in his opinion.

"Leet! The shield!" Uber yelped. The energy shield was glowing a brilliant white, now.

"Bash the third balcony!"

"It's too far! There won't be anything to trigger the discharge!"

Shit! He was right, and just taking out a pillar wouldn't be good. Leet's eyes landed on Genesis. "Uber, fastball special! Genesis, toss him!"

The Brute blinked, four eyes out of sequence. "But who will tank?"

"My robe will deflect bullets for a few seconds! Throw Uber at the balcony!" Genesis dithered for a moment, and lights on the underside of the kite shield began to blink. "NOW!"

Genesis scooped up Uber in one massive hand, and he straightened out, holding the shield in front of him with both hands before the Brute hurled him like a javelin at the balcony at the far end of the room. Just before he hit, he triggered the other function of the shield. A blast of white fire erupted from the shield, and all the kinetic energy that the shield had absorbed from the massed gunfire blasted back at the skeletons, still firing at the flying Thinker. Bones crumpled into powder from the shockwave, and Uber tumbled backward, tucking into a roll as he fell back towards the floor. He managed to get the shield underneath him and landed on it, the shield absorbing the energy of the impact. Shakily, Uber got to his feet and approached his partner. "Leet, I swear to Scion, if you have anyone else throw me I will strangle you in your sleep."

"Ah, you loved it. You're the adrenaline junkie." Leet retorted. "Better to use the shield charge, anyway. Least it didn't explode."

Uber shot Leet a look. "Dude. Please don't mention explosions after having a cave troll throw me at the skeletal remains of the Brockton Bay mafia. No offense, Genesis."

"None taken," Genesis replied, bemused. "That was the idea, anyway."

Uber pumped a fist, then pointed one finger directly in Leet's face. "I fucking called it!"

Leet groaned. "I didn't say you were wrong, bro, just that you killed my joke, Buzz Killington." He grinned. "No hard feelings on the Fastball Special?"

Uber shrugged. "Well, I survived, and my shield didn't blow up, so I guess we're all good." He paused for a moment. "It occurs to me that we have not been shot by skeletons while we were bantering and mocking each other. Think we cleared the room?"

"No shit, Sherlock," Ballistic grated through his teeth.

Leet rounded on him. "Dude, what the fuck was that? I was trying to find a way to avoid pissing off the DM!"

"Well, excuse me for taking some fucking initiative!" Ballistic retorted. "You froze! Zombie bitch was about to go for your throat."

"Listen to me, you overcompensating little shit! 'Zombie Bitch' was a Draugr, which means it was superhumanly fast and strong, and it might have been able to throw ice bolts or knock us over with its voice alone!" Leet yelled. "And what happened when you blasted it? We were attacked by fifty mafia skeletons with machine guns!" He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced over at Uber. "Ballistic, it was through luck alone that we all made it through that without getting a TPK."

Ballistic winced, then rallied. "Then what were you going to do, huh?"

"She asked for tickets, and places like this have rules," Leet explained. "I'm about half convinced that this is an honest-to-god Theme Dungeon, and that means that she likely wouldn't ask us for tickets, or punish us for not having any, unless there are tickets we can get."

"Like these." Trickster stated from just behind the pair. He held out a handful of crumpled paper tickets. Leet took them wordlessly and smoothed them out, staring at them. The gilt edging on the scalloped edges was flaking off and the ink was faded to illegibility, but still visible across the top was the word 'TICKET' in large block letters. He turned back to Trickster. "They were lying on the floor at the top of the stairs, swept into the corners behind the doors."

"Ok," Leet whispered, mind racing. "As far as I'm concerned, this is a Dungeon, and the parahuman is the Dungeon Master, and that means that he has rules." He looked around at the massive entrance hall. "And, given that we haven't had a Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies moment, he may not actually want to kill us all." The Tinker leveled a glare at Ballistic. "We could have negotiated. We could have retreated. We could have done SOMETHING different. And now eight people are dead, and we could have gone with them, because of you."

"Seven." A weak voice coughed, and a hand grabbed Leet's ankle.

Leet barely managed to avoid screaming or kicking, and settled for an undignified "GWAHH!" Looking down, he saw that one of the mercenaries that Trickster had used as swap material was lying on the ground, one hand clutching her ribs, the other hand wrapped around his ankle. She was a petite woman, barely five foot two, with blonde hair in a pixie cut and piercing green eyes. Blood covered her face and hair, and Leet saw a small burnt gash on her temple.

Uber knelt beside her. "You ok?" Leet handed him the remains of the HP potion, and he helped the mercenary drink the thick solution. She grimaced and sat up, moving her hand away from her ribs, where multiple divots marked places where the Kevlar had stopped bullets.

"I was shot by a Thompson, what do you think?" she gritted, touching her head gingerly. "I'll live, or drop dead without notice, either one." She turned her head and blatantly looked Uber up and down. A leer crossed her features. "You know what, Gallant is underage, so I'll take the knight in shining armor I can get. Call me Murph."

"Uber. Charmed, I'm sure." Uber chuckled, taking one hand and pressing her knuckles to the mouthguard of his helmet.

"You better fucking be, I followed your ass in here." The mercenary groaned. "Ah, fuck, I think I busted a rib."

"The potion will clear that up in a few minutes, I think," Leet explained.

"Well, Murph, I hope you're either up to coming with us, cause there's no way we're leaving you here, and we can't quite seem to open the door back outside." Trickster drawled flippantly from behind Genesis, where he was idly picking flattened bullets from between its scales.

Leet turned slowly to look at the teleporter. "We can't get out?" He asked quietly.

"It's locked solid. The door won't budge." Trickster grimaced. "Sundancer tried to melt the locks, and nothing happened. That's never happened before."

Slumping and running his hands through his hair under his hood, Leet groaned. "Why did I think this was a good idea?" He shook his head and turned to Trickster. "We need to have a huddle, hash some things out, figure out a game plan. You guys did good with taking down the skeletons, but one wrong step, and we're dead, no respawn, no Phoenix Down."

Trickster looked at the Tinker for a long moment. "It's hard to take you seriously in a dress and fake beard, waving a stick." He stated cooly. "But I don't disagree."

Leet gave a wry smile. "It is a little underwhelming, yeah." He turned and looked at the top of the stairs, where Sundancer, her mouth a thin line of suppressed disgust, was turning and checking the bodies of the mercenaries. "Any other survivors?"

Sundancer shook her head. "No. It's not pretty up here."

"The angle of the shots from the balconies must have meant we caught the bulk of the fire from above, so our body armor didn't do as much good," Murph commented, her voice dry and factual, before snorting. "I was short, and in the middle of the group, so I only got clipped. Might have been the only thing that saved my life." her voice wavered a bit, before firming. "Bunch of tall bastards, always rubbing it in, too. That'll show them." She shook her head.

"Trickster! You need to see this!" Sundancer called, her voice worried. Trickster and Leet took the stairs two at a time to join her at the top of the stairs. She pointed wordlessly at the balconies. On the left balcony, the scorched bones that had been damaged by her sun were dissolving into motes of blue light, but on the right balcony, the bones were beginning to rattle and draw back together.

Leet put the pieces together. "Sundancer, take them out! You have to destroy the bones to take them down for good." As Sundancer swept a basketball sized sun through the slowly reforming bones on the right, he looked at the balcony at the end of the hall and saw to his relief that nothing was stirring, the concussive blast from the discharging kinetic shield had been enough to destroy the skeletons stationed there. A reflection off golden metal caught his eye. "Trickster, do you have a way to get me up there?"

Trickster looked where he was pointing. "No, there's nothing left to swap with." He glanced down at the bodies at their feet. "I can have Genesis toss one of these up there, and swap you with that."

Leet grimaced. "Gross. Do it, I think I see something." A few seconds, and a brief moment of disorientation later, Leet stood on the balcony at the end of the hall, shoes crunching on bone powder that was slowly dissolving into fading motes of blue light. There! He bent and pulled a gun out of the shredded remains of a pin-striped gray suit. The Thompson submachine gun had been heavily customized, with oiled mahogany fittings, gold inlays, and an odd bayonet shaped like the blade of a Viking ax, obviously designed for chopping, rather than thrusting. Curving golden script inlaid into the mahogany stock read 'Ruthless Ax of Violins'. "The name of the gun?" Leet whispered, picking up a pinstriped gray hat and shaking off the dust. The name 'Bones Malone' was embroidered into the inside of the brim. "A named Mook." The hat faded into blue light, and Leet shook his head, more glints of metal catching his eye. Where the piles of bone and shreds of suits had dissolved, small gold-colored coins and unspent brass rounds remained. He picked up a coin and was oddly disappointed to see that it was not, in fact, an actual gold coin. What it was, however, was a Vikare Memorial coin, a five dollar piece that was rare, but legal tender.

"Think we've got them all!" Uber called up. "What do you have?"

"Loot," Leet whispered in dawning glee.

"What?"

"They leave loot! The Dungeon has elite units and they leave fucking loot!" Leet yelled. "Money! Guns! Ammunition!"

"You're shitting me!" Uber said in disbelief. In answer, Leet thrust Bones' custom Tommy gun into the air. "Aeris lives!" He whispered in awe. "Actual fucking spawned loot."

A few minutes of scrambling and chained teleports from Trickster yielded a small pile of loot. Uber counted through the money, while Murph flipped through the ammo. "It looks like it's all .45 caliber ammo for the Thompson, well over 500 rounds loose. Pity all the drums disappeared, except for the one that's on the Ax." She glared at the party, clutching the gun. "Which is mine, by the way. You owe me that much." Ballistic looked like he wanted to argue, but said nothing.

Leet gritted his teeth and glanced at Uber. "Your kill, your drop."

Uber looked at the gun, then shrugged exaggeratedly, making his armor clank. "Think it would clash with the pauldrons. She can keep it."

"Dude, pauldrons go with everything!" Leet exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Have you no class?"

"Yeah, and that's why I'm letting the injured lady get a nice gun." Uber drawled. "It's the polite thing to do."

Leet sighed. "Fine. What about the cash?" He eyed the mound of assorted coins in front of his friend.

"At an estimate? Probably $400 or so, but the vast majority of it is in small change; pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters, so I may be way off." He flipped a heavy coin in the air. "There are a fair number of dollar coins and $5 Vikares, as well as two of these:" Uber tossed the heavy coin to Leet, who snatched it out of the air and looked it over. The coin was the size of the end of a soda can, and on one face had four superimposed profiles, facing to the left – a police officer, a firefighter, a female paramedic, and a square-jawed man in a cowl. The legend read 'Never Forget Their Sacrifice'. Leet flipped the coin over and saw the sun setting behind the skyline of New York – a skyline that hadn't been seen since Behemoth emerged from Central Park. "A New York $25 coin." He murmured. "I've never even seen one."

"I have, once, but it was in a museum. Last US currency intended for public tender to actually have any actual gold – albeit just a tiny bit of foil embedded in the sunset."

"It's worth WAY more than $25, isn't it?"

Uber grinned. "Hell yeah." He sobered. "So. Loot."

Leet nodded. "Classic Dungeoneering 101 – Divide the loot between the survivors at the end of the raid."

Sundancer blanched. "Guys, would you not say it so casually?"

"Oh, would you prefer we dance around the subject?" Leet asked. "Cause that's not going to change the fact that we are in a place that can kill us. Easily. Possibly even if we're careful."

"We need to figure out the chain of command." Trickster said, leaning against a pillar.

"Oh, so naturally you bring it up, huh? Who do you think should be the leader, huh?" Ballistic snarled.

"Leet." Trickster said simply. Everyone boggled.

"Leet." Ballistic repeated. "Leet, the loser. Leet, the failure that gets caught on video and taken to jail on his live stream."

"That was one time, and only because the Mario jump booster broke!" Leet interjected. "We stopped recording the other times." He concluded with a mumble.

"Leet, the Tinker who has more documented failed devices of any living tinker on record." Ballistic continued. "I did my research. Coil hired you because you were cheap and desperate, and he knew how to spin it so you'd be willing to jump on board."

"Ballistic, if you don't stop, I'm going to do something I will not regret in the slightest." Genesis rumbled from behind the Striker. "You're going too far."

"Uber and Leet are the only ones who seem to know what's going on." Sundancer chimed in.

"Thanks, but I would really prefer not to be in charge, guys." Leet shuffled. "For all his fuckups and hurtful intent… I don't necessarily disagree with him." He chuckled wryly. "I'm kind of a screw-up."

Uber put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Dude, there's self-deprecating, and then there's self-defeating." He turned to the others. "We don't want to lead the party, but we do have some stuff we gotta go over. So we can all try and stay alive."

"Staying alive is good," Chimed in Murph.

"What kind of experience do y'all have?" Uber asked.

"Several years as mercenaries and villains. Protection, mostly, with some gang assaults." Trickster answered.

"And with gaming?"

"MOBAs and fighting games, some shooters." Genesis chimed in. "We started as a local game league, barely made it out of Madison."

Leet winced. "That sucks. My condolences."

"You have no idea." Grumbled Ballistic.

"I've been in and out of SWAT teams across the northeast," Murph mentioned. "Kept getting fired for either fraternization or excessive force, so I started freelancing." She grimaced. "Coil is scum, and mostly hired scum, but he paid well."

"Ok," Uber stated. "We're having to do some guesswork here, but all the evidence that we can see is that we're dealing with a Shaker/Master who has some sort of control over territory that he considers his, kind of like Labyrinth of Faultline's gang, and who also creates humanoid minions that resemble the undead." He glanced around. "We're agreed on that, right?" At Trickster's nod, he continued. "So, whether because of his choice, or because of his power, he's behaving a LOT like a classic dungeon in some tabletop and video games, but with a semi-modern twist."

Leet chimed in. "That means that he'll have rules and that fundamentally, he's playing a game with us." He raised the $25 coin. "A game that has risks, and rewards. Right now, he's taking it easy on us."

"Yeah," Murph added. "If he can pull Thompson submachine guns out of nowhere, he can pull out something a lot more accurate and deadly. The tactics were decent, but those bony bastards had terrible aim, and this entrance hall has enough cover that it was intentional."

"Right." Leet nodded. "And the violence didn't start until we initiated it, either. On top of that, once we defeated the encounter, we were given a chance to rest and regroup, as well as gather the loot." he shrugged. "Not that I'm complaining."

"What about the mercenaries? The first couple of groups, I mean?" Sundancer asked. The group sat in silence for a moment.

"Well, first of all, they weren't all assholes." Murph finally stated. "A couple of them were halfway decent folks, but that was when this place looked like a prison."

"The DM was Coil's prisoner," Uber stated.

"Yeah."

"Did he trigger here?" Leet asked softly. Uber winced, but Leet idly noted that the Travellers did not.

"We didn't hear about anyone here until Coil called for a couple of volunteers to escort him to the cell." The mercenary said slowly. "We glossed over it after the first team got wiped, though."

"Escort him to the cell? The cape?" Uber asked.

"No, Coil. The cape was already there. He couldn't move at all, looked like a statue with a crystal ball for a head, from what I heard." Murph snorted. "Snakey bastard had the poor guy shot in the hand, to make a point."

"So if he sensed more people with guns moving into territory that he had claimed, then he'd be inclined to shoot first, ask questions later?" Uber mused. Leet wondered what he had set his power to. Psychoanalysis? That was a skill, right? "Funny how the only people who actually died were mercenaries this time, and the survivor was the least physically threatening."

"I'll have you know I'm plenty physically threatening." Murph leered. "The last guy to get handsy in the locker room got to taste his own testicles before he bled out."

Somewhere, a cricket chirped.

"Not… Precisely what I meant, but moving on." Uber continued in a slightly higher tone. He coughed, then recovered. "So he was lashing out because he felt trapped, if I had to guess. And now that we're down to people who haven't actually harmed him, we may be able to talk him down, negotiate for our release."

"Except for Ballistic, who shot first when he tried to stop us without violence." Genesis rumbled. "And Murph, who is still a mercenary in Coil's employ."

The group was silent for a long moment. "We can't get out?" Leet asked again.

Sundancer shook her head. "The handle didn't even heat up."

"Then there's something he wants." Leet mused. "Or he's unwilling to let us out alive, either one."

Trickster rubbed at his temples. "God, I need a drink."

Uber lightly cuffed the back of his friend's head. "Optimism, bro. It's not Boatmurdered."

"AMEN," Leet said fervently. At the odd looks from the travelers, he shook his head. "Too long to explain, but let's just say I'm glad there are no elephants." He looked thoughtful. "Or lava. Or dorfs, for that matter." Leet shook his head. "Anyway, we have to assume that he wants us to do something, and we can't get out, so we might as well go further in." He glanced at the piles of money and bullets. "Let's gather up what we can, while I check on what I have with me."

Murph levered herself to her feet with a grimace, before straightening and twisting. "Aches, but I'll live. I'll go see what I can scavenge from the squads. They certainly don't need their shit anymore."
Several minutes later, Ballistic was testing his weight on his wounded leg, and Uber was scooping the last of the coins into a collapsible duffle bag that Leet had brought in his bag of holding. Leet looked through his various themed 'reagents', mostly leftovers from other games and heists that hadn't been used. Murph stumped down the staircase, dual pistols holstered on her hips, with the 'Ax of Violins' slung on a strap on her back. She had a pair of belts covered in grenades acting as bandoleers, and, while she wasn't exactly smiling, she seemed to exude a sense of smug satisfaction.

Sundancer glanced over at her, from where she was standing, staring at the dark hole under the balcony at the far end of the room. "You look pleased."

"I figured that since there are so many undead, I might as well take precautions against a force at our backs." Murph drawled. Leet looked up and noticed that the ax-blade bayonet had hints of blood left on the edge. "Chopped the heads off the ones that still had heads left, and sliced through hamstrings and tendons. If they do rise, they won't get far." She smirked. "There's a couple up there that damn well deserve it, too, and I didn't get the chance while they were awake to enjoy it."

"You are one crazy bitch, Murph," Uber commented mildly, tossing her a backpack full of the looted .45 ammo.

"Aww, you really think so?" She cooed. "Thanks, sweetie." Murph shrugged on the backpack. "We ready to go?"

Trickster nodded. "We're all good."

"Then let's go," Leet said, and activated the Orb of Light, which soared ahead, soft light casting moving shadows behind the pillars in the formerly grand hall. The party advanced slowly, staying off the carpet and out from underneath the chandeliers, but it took little time to reach the underhang of the balcony. The light from the Orb illuminated a pair of glass booths, meant to receive the patron's tickets, one on either side of the cutout in the wall. The sagging plaster ceiling dropped down to about ten feet above their heads, and mildew, as well as other, more suspicious stains, covered the intricate molding and detailing on the formerly grand walls. The glass booths themselves were empty, but inside each could be seen a door, slightly ajar. At the end of the cutout alcove was a massive pair of double doors, intricately carved oak, the rich brown wood faded with age and dust. A faded cream placard hung from a hook between the doors. Leet stepped forward to take a look.

"Production in Process, do not disturb." He read out loud, then tried the tarnished brass handles. The long handles didn't budge, not even a rattle, and the door was as immobile as if it were part of the wall. "Genesis, can you give it a try?" He asked, stepping aside. The gray-scaled brute moved up, reared back, and slammed both enormous fists into the door with a resounding boom that echoed up and down the entrance hall, but the door didn't budge.

"Move," Sundancer said softly, and a softball-sized sun appeared in her outstretched hand. She carefully pressed it to the lock, brow wrinkled in concentration. Nothing happened. The wood of the door did not scorch, the handle refused to melt, and, after she extinguished the sun, the door was still slightly cool. A sun the size of a ping-pong ball appeared on her fingertip and then began zipping around, dragging on the surface of the walls and ceiling. Plaster scorched and crumbled, but the brick or woodwork underneath was inviolate. Brass fittings and decorations melted, but the hinges of the door stayed secure. With a yell of frustration, Sundancer sent the sun spiraling around her, and it seared through the glass of the ticket checking booth on the left without any resistance. The group stared at the small hole as it cooled from glowing white hot, to red, to black.

Leet eyed the door in the back of the ticket booth. "We have to go through if we're going to move on."

"But which side?" Uber mused. The interior of the two mirrored booths were nearly identical – it took several minute's examination to discover that the only difference was that the door on the right read 'Utility', and the door on the left read 'Staff'.

"Who the fuck cares!" growled Ballistic, but otherwise, he did nothing.

Leet pulled the New York coin out of a pocket. "Heads for Staff, tails for Utility." He stated, before flipping the heavy coin into the air. It spun glinting in the light of the orb, before landing in his outstretched hand.









AN: Heads or Tails, guys? It doesn't ultimately matter for the fate of the story, just a matter of what I write first. Polls will be up at the top of the page, and I'll close them in a couple of days.